


Think

by addietheoddie



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Just a bunch of nonsense rambling, No Dialogue, spoiler-free!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-07 23:03:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20825276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addietheoddie/pseuds/addietheoddie
Summary: An evening drive always clears the mind.





	Think

There was always a distinct nostalgia strung by the breaths of tires breezing over pavement, accompanied by the gentle wisps of cool air slipping through the sliver between the open window and the roof of the automobile. Whether it be these sounds of driving the downtown cityscapes, or it be the repetition of cocoa-brown irises darting frantically at the quickly dancing scenery just outside of reach; Steven always cherished these dusk drives. It was something he regularly indulged in as a young child. His father would take the van just a few miles down the road, more often when the moon was up and the air was cool. It always seemed to calm Steven when he was crying or struggling to fall asleep. Although, other times, it was simply for the leisure. The leisure of an evening road-trip. It didn’t quite make sense to drive in the daytime. With the exception of grocery shopping or following directions to a hard-to-find address, there was always something special about driving at night. Sometimes, it was the simplicity of closing his eyes, resting his body, allowing the sounds from the vehicle’s surroundings to morph into a strange sort of fantasy world in his mind. Other times, it was the separation from situations that ignited present-time familiarity. The separation from his hometown, the separation from his friends and family. Parting ways, just for a moment, from the reality he was living. Even if that reality was a good one. 

It never made sense for him to communicate these thoughts or feelings that swarmed his mind on the daily. They were his own thoughts, and he preferred they stayed that way. He wasn’t much of the person to willingly approach somebody and spew his feelings, of course. He always seemed to find other ways to busy himself, other ways to let these feelings dwindle on their own. And if they didn’t, and if they chose to stay deeply routed in his mind, then that’s where they belonged. They chose to stay there, they chose not to go off elsewhere. But, he supposed, a lot of these feelings had their reasons to implant themselves deep inside. A lot of these, with dear respects to whomever be responsible, were of direct result of recent events. Yes, recent events that seemed to bring a whole new meaning to the word “Trauma.” While that word in itself seems a bit too far-fetched, couldn’t no other word describe such expressive feelings? Couldn’t no other word ever precisely portray the feelings with which came spewing from his veins, subsequently following such distressing events? He himself certainly couldn’t shake the word from its deserving title. That, the word trauma, mixed with what may have been some form of anxiety—perhaps a disorder of sorts—was what seemed to permanently firm these feelings inside of him. They refused to drift away and move along, just as every other typical thought had managed to do. They refused to skip out under the cautious eye of another presence. It wasn’t like he would know how to express them outwardly, anyhow. Like mentioned, he was never one to open up to such emotional vulnerability. He either busied himself or moved on. So, if course, with many of these options greatly stretched far from his reach, it was beginning to get harder to cope. 

But on humid summer evenings like this? Slouched in the smooth leather seat with the windows cracked open? He always found a nice solitude. A stillness that allowed him to confront these thoughts, to face them head-on—metaphorically, of course. It wasn’t a tactic he typically used to push the thoughts out. Sometimes, he often forgot about it. So many thoughts, yet he never *thought* about them. He always just brushed them off. Like perhaps they’ll go on their own. But maybe sometimes, it was important to think. To sit and close his eyes, to let the feelings flood over him, to give them permission to overtake his mind and body. To feel. To emote. Even if silently. Because some feelings are more stubborn than others. Some will choose to stay, some will choose to go. And the ones that choose to stay are some of the hardest to rid of. But it wasn’t impossible. 

He just had to think.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my first published work! Your views and support make a huge difference to what I can do. 
> 
> If you’ve watched Steven Universe the Movie, you’d probably know that tensions were a bit high for the Gems earlier this month. I wanted to interpret those lingering tensions into some non-dialogue writing! It’s fun to experiment with how the characters may have been effected long-term, especially in terms of mental/emotional health, so I figured to sort of base this work off of that! 
> 
> I know this wasn’t much of anything—not really a set plot or storyline behind it, but it was fun to write! Dialogue isn’t always essential to writing your heart out, even if that writing is a bunch of nonsense rambling. 
> 
> Please excuse any grammar/punctuation mistakes! 
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


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